Gemini Rising (Mischievous Malamute Mystery Series, Book 1) Read Free

fifteen years. While lacking personality, these newer neighborhoods provided many conveniences—high-end outdoor malls, restaurants, theaters, etc.—within a stone’s throw in every direction, converting the congested neighborhoods into mini cities, which appealed to the masses.
    A few diehards, like my parents, stayed on in the old neighborhood, meticulously caring for and upgrading their lovely Ranch-style home with its sprawling yard and manicured gardens until they died unexpectedly two years ago. The house had been left to me—their only child. I could not afford such a house on my freelance earnings alone, but my parents had paid cash for it and then set aside a monthly stipend for maintenance and updates, which was also willed to me. I couldn’t bear to part with it yet. It was the house they loved so much, where I’d grown-up and created many incredible memories. The memories and the house were all I had left of my parents. A lump grew in my throat as I thought of them. Missed them.
    I was jerked to the present by my companion’s annoyed whoo-whoos. We had reached the park. No distractions while on his time, Nicoh reminded me. Doggie translation: Time to get down to business.

Chapter Five
    Ramirez felt uneasy as he approached the house. He had initially liked the spunky gal. Maybe a bit too much. True, she had been annoyingly abrupt at their first meeting, but he’d also found her direct and brutally honest—traits he admired. Absently, he shook his head. Even though experience and an ever-increasing mound of concrete evidence told him what he was about to do was just, the task before him gave him no pleasure. He exhaled deeply as he knocked on the front door.
     
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    Nicoh and I had returned from our nightly jaunt around the neighborhood when there was a knock on the door. Strange that the person wouldn’t ring the doorbell, I thought. Nicoh simply huffed at the interruption. It was dinnertime, after all. Some guard dog, I grumbled. So glad someone had his priorities straight. My thoughts on Nicoh’s questionable qualities ceased as I opened the door to a grim-faced detective.
    “Oh, good evening, Detective Ramirez.” I surprised myself by managing to sound halfway put-together, though inside I felt anything but.
    “Good evening, Ms. Jackson,” the Homicide detective replied evenly, though I noticed he was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Uh-oh, I thought. This can’t be good.
    “Please, call me AJ,” I reminded him. “I assume you are here about the case? Do you have more questions for me? Have there been any new developments? Has the poor girl been identified? Has her family been notified? Are there any leads?” Ok, I’ll admit it, perhaps babbling nonstop and getting to the point should be mutually-exclusive.
     
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    Ramirez suppressed a smile when AJ fired-off a series of questions the moment he’d said hello. She had been much the same way the morning she’d found the girl in the dumpster. A casual observer would have thought her a calm, cool and collected customer, undaunted by the tragic circumstances that surrounded her. He had the benefit of training and experience, however, and knew the type well. It was a front, a shell she created to keep everything and everyone at an arm’s length when the world around her was out of control. By presenting the tough exterior, she was able to retain some semblance of that control, even if it was only of herself and her emotions.
    She had proven his point when she declined his offer to call a friend or family member to join her that morning. Even before he’d asked, he’d known she would turn him down. In fact, she seemed to have anticipated the offer when she quickly but graciously declined, as though purposely willing him to move on, to focus his attentions elsewhere. Anywhere, but on her.
    He forced his thoughts back to the present and to the matter at hand. Given her nature, she would expect directness, he